Stopped Hoping Quotes & Sayings

I remember writing 'All I Want Is You' and hoping it would get me out of trouble. I haven't stopped writing songs or getting into trouble since. — Cheyenne Kimball

I have neither one nor the other, and that has been going on for so long now that I have stopped wondering whether it is hate or love which gives us the strength to continue this life of lies, which provides the formidable energy that allows us to go on suffering, and hoping. — Georges Perec

She was twelve," Claybourne went on, his voice flat, but the fury still simmering just beneath the surface. "Sold to a house of ill repute, one known for specializing in virgins. He was her first. As far as I know, her only. So yes, the four of us circle around her the way one might an injured butterfly, never touching it for fear of damaging it more, forever hoping that a day will come when it will again fly. If you harm her, in any manner, no matter how slight, you will answer to us. And while Graves might not have stopped by to issue a warning, don't underestimate him. With that scalpel of his, he could slice out your heart and you'd never feel it. — Lorraine Heath

I stopped at a red light, turned my head, and allowed myself to enjoy the handsomeness that was Brent.
He noticed my staring and asked, "What?"
"As if you don't know. You're not the type of guy that a girl gets tired of looking at."
"Oh. Well in that case, you're welcome to look all you want," he said and gestured to himself. "You're allowed to touch, too." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
I lowered my voice into its sexy-husky range. "I was hoping you'd say that." With my flirtiest look on my face, I rubbed my hand slowly up his arm and then pinched him firmly on the shoulder.
"Ow!" Brent rubbed his shoulder and grinned. "Not what I had in mind! — Lani Woodland

The first idea, the first art piece I ever did, was when I was four. I cut the seed of a pear in half and the seed of an apple in half in put those two halves together and planted the seed, hoping a very strange tree might grow. And I never stopped. — Yoko Ono

Within a month he knew that his marriage was a failure; within a year he stopped hoping that it would improve. — John Edward Williams

There in bed, happiness comes over me. Not like something that belongs to me, but like a wheel of fire rolling through the room and the world. For a moment I think I'll manage to let it pass and be able to lie there, aware of what I have, and not wish for anything more. The next moment I want to hang on. I want it to continue. He has to lie beside me tomorrow, too. This is my chance. My only, my last chance. I swing my legs onto the floor. Now I'm panic-stricken. This is what I've been working to avoid for thirty-seven years. I've systematically practiced the only thing in the world that is worth learning. How to renounce. I've stopped hoping for anything. When experienced humility becomes an Olympic discipline, I'll be on the national team. I've never had any patience for other people's unhappy love affairs. I hate their weakness. — Peter Hoeg

Where do we find happiness? We pursue it, search for it, kill ourselves trying to find it, and all the time it's just here ... It comes just when we've stopped expecting anything, stopped hoping, stopped being afraid. — Irene Nemirovsky

Deeply moved, she poured the tea while they were finishing up. They came into the kitchen to replace the cleaning things, and she handed two cups to Om.
Noticing the red rose borders, he started to point out her error, "The pink one's for us," then stopped. Her face told him she was aware of it.
"What?" she asked, taking the pink cup for herself, "Is something wrong?"
"Nothing," his voice caught . He turned away, hoping she did not see the film of water glaze his eyes. — Rohinton Mistry

Though the rain had pitter-pattered, then pelted the carriages during the drive had stopped, the ground was wet and boggy, sucking at feet as though hoping to keep anyone from ever leaving the estate. — Jessica Lawson

So you got rid of your astonishment that someone could write so much more dynamically than you. You stopped cherishing your aloneness and poetic differentness to your delicately flat little bosom. You said: she's to good to forget. How about making her a friend and competitor - you could learn alot from her. So you'll try. So maybe she'll laugh in your face. So maybe she'll beat you hollow in the end. So anyhow, you'll try, and maybe, possibly, she can stand you. Here's hoping! — Sylvia Plath

Beckett, where's Eve?"
When he had her pressed to his chest, she tried again. "Are you going to tell me or what?"
Beckett sighed and looked into her face. "I left her, babycakes. She needs wings, not handcuffs."
He held Livia tighter, like she was a teddy bear.
She stopped moving her feet and hugged him around the neck. "You're not handcuffs. Don't you know that? She loves you. She does, I've seen it."
Beckett resumed dancing, dipping her again. "Look around, Whitebread. She's not here. She didn't try to stop me from coming. Her heart belongs to a dead man and a dream. I'm neither of those things." Beckett released her and clapped for the end of the song. He reached in his pocket and produced a crumpled envelope. "Here's my gift to you guys. I'm sure Blake won't want to accept it, but I'm hoping you'll convince him. For me. — Debra Anastasia

He could hope for many things, though he had stopped doing so long ago. If one didn't hope, then disappointment didn't visit. Hoping meant you had somehting to live for, and living for something or someone else was asking for pain. -Nik — Lora Leigh

And then an endless instant later Arthur was kissing him back, like this was perfectly normal, like this was exactly what Arthur had been hoping for most in all the world, his large hands closing over Merlin's shoulders and sliding down over his back, strong and warm even through the fabric of his sweater, one hand pausing on his waist and the other sliding around to cup his arse and pull him in closer. Merlin made a surprised, enthusiastic sound and stopped holding back; let himself cling to Arthur and kiss him more fiercely; and then they were kissing like it was their last day on earth and they had to cram every possible moment of passion into this tiny slice of time, hands clutching at fabric, mouths pressing hungry bites onto bare skin as if they would somehow devour one another, trying to touch and taste everything at once, frantic and needy and bursting with urgent desire and the inescapable knowledge that this was finite, was stolen, was not supposed to be. — FayJay

The bell on the door beeped it's annoying electronic beep as a customer walked in and I straightened up, ready to plaster a fake smile on my face. Keep on truckin'. My eyes collided with a set of chocolate brown and my heart stopped. It actually stopped beating and I wondered if this was what it felt like to die. "Hey," West said, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I was hoping I'd find you here." What lengths will West go to prove his love for Blair? — Amity Cross

She remembers talking to God a lot right after everything happened with Luke. She remembers crying and asking why, over and over. Asking for help, for strength, for understanding. Apologizing for what she did wrong. Talking through everything she could have, should have done differently. Begging for the torment to stop.
She remembers belief and trust slowly turning sour. Still, she kept talking to God out of habit. And because she didn't have anyone else to talk to. At night, in the dark sanctuary of her bedroom, alone, she could say the things she'd been keeping quiet. But she stopped expecting an answer. Stopped hoping for one.
After a while, God felt as distant, as uncaring, as everyone else.
And her prayers faded away. — Kathryn Holmes

I hate nice girls.
Just exchanging greetings with them will get them on your mind.
Start texting each other, and your heart will be set a flutter.
If they call you, you're done for.
Enjoy staring at your logs and grinning like a fool.
However, I won't get fooled again. That's what your kind calls kindness.
If you're nice to me, you're nice to others.
I always end up nearly forgetting that. Reality is cruel,
So I'm sure lies are a form of kindness.
Thus, I say kindness itself is also a lie.
I always ended up with these expectations.
And I always ended up with these misunderstandings.
And before I knew it, I stopped hoping.
A highly trained loner is once bitten, twice shy.
As a veteran on this battlefield of life, I've gotten used to losing.
That's why I always hate nice girls. - Hachiman Hikigaya — Wataru Watari

I found that each time a test was negative, it stopped the dreaming and hoping for a while. Taking the test was a way of puncturing the balloons of hope, because if I didn't, they would lift and lift without any evidence, and their falling back down every month was too painful. Essentially, I took all these tests to keep myself from hoping, because the hoping was breaking my heart. — Shauna Niequist

Ronkers was getting out of the elevator on the first floor when the intercom paged 'Dr Heart'. There was no Dr Heart at University Hospital. 'Dr Heart' meant someone's heart had stopped.
'Dr Heart?' the intercom asked sweetly. 'Please come to 304 ... '
Any doctor in the hospital was supposed to hurry to that room. There was an unwritten rule that you looked around and made a slow move to the nearest elevator, hoping another doctor would beat you to the patient. Ronkers hesitated, letting the elevator door close. He pushed the button again, but the elevator was already moving up.
'Dr Heart, room 304,' the intercom said calmly. It was better than urgently crying, 'A doctor! Any doctor to room 304! Oh my God, hurry!' That might disturb the other patients and the visitors. — John Irving

American business long ago gave up on demanding that prospective employees be honest and hardworking. It has even stopped hoping for employees who are educated enough that they can tell the difference between the men's room and the women's room without having little pictures on the doors. — Dave Barry

You will be back by then Ellen, wont you? I'm keeping this notebook safe for you because I want to believe you'll read it someday, and you'll know I never stopped hoping you'd come home. — Natasha Mac A'Bhaird